Some stints of my life have dealt crazy decks of occurrence. But I’d be willing to say the past six months have dealt the most surreal occurrences with God and this thing called “earth,” that I’ve ever known. If God really is a person, He has a will. Never, though, have I so submissively attempted opening to This will (as oppose to mine), which again, has left me with the most unbelievable of seasons. This writing is done on the eve of a most bizarre and miraculous chapter herein.

The short of my last week is as follows: Tuesday night, went to play tennis with buddies from school, Todd and Jeremy. Stomach tightened up so bad that I ended up in the emergency room. Intersected paths with a meth-addicted, battered woman named Barbara. As each of us waited through many hours of triage and no treatment, we were able to hear bits of her story and gain a heart for hers—namely, the devastating memories her abuser Phillip. At some point in this night, Phillip showed-up. An altercation and final “split” left the three of us there with a homeless, wounded woman, high on Meth. This led to our first chunk spent searching sites and calling hotlines, all in hopes of caring for one woman. Shelter options left us stranded, ending this night at 3:30am in a Motel 6, laying on her bed with Mexican food and prayers (likely her first ever). We left her money for a cab, meant to deliver her to a recovery shelter in the morning. Our job was done…until we heard from her in the morning, explaining that the shelter was temporary and merely provided food and a bus ticket. Not much help for a woman who’s craving drugs and can easily find more lucrative options by sharing her body at any given hour or street corner.

Jeremy, Todd and I pulled away again from our “normal” lives, in order to love, and at this point, even like a woman. We were hopeful that day, but tired from a long night and wondering God’s thoughts on our role. The afternoon was spent over more meals and tears of rejection and shame. The LA shelter system—whether it be for battered women, or drug addicts—is hard for me to support anymore. We saw way too many rules that ruled over a heart, and hearts that were dead in their profession. Hearing Barabra rehash stories of suicide, rape, molestation and addiction…received by a dull voice of predetermined guidelines was nauseating, to say the least.

Thursday night we shared an emotional dinner together, where Barbara started showing signs of her human beingness—she was witty, intelligent, curious and beautiful. We were able to land her at a church that night, which had issues of its own, but for that night at least, they were a blessing to our quest—which at this point was finding itself extremely hopeless and wanting to run, on just about every front. The guys and I would have to spend a number of hours debriefing and praying and crying and asking at the end of every one of these stints with Barbara. We were exhausted, let alone hundred of pages behind on our normal roles in life. But as confusing and madly alone we felt in these hours, we knew we were to stay together and stay in the trenches of this story.

Hearing from her the next morning, however, our hopes plummeted more. She had skipped a trial date and called Phillip to come get her. When that interaction failed miserably, again, she called us. Said she’d been kicked out of the church, hadn’t called the shelters she was suppose to, and was wanting to use. More tired than before and downtrodden in our weakness and pain, we chose to step into another day with our prodigal friend. Seeing her was devastating—she was more hopeless and angry than us, and could’ve fooled anyone in claiming that she was sober. We sat in McDonalds and explained her options—which in our minds included 3 more shelter attempts, which by our track-record, would not work. Other than that, we’d agreed to take her to jail. Her only other option was moving back to the streets, or her abuser.

By God’s absolute grace, and I don’t say that lightly, I remembered a recovery home in Pasadena that hadn’t crossed my mind up to that point (had it done so any earlier, Barabra wouldn’t have been willing/able/ready to commit to its needs. As we sat there through another interview, and a send-off that said, “Call back Monday,” we were devastated. Again, by His miraculous grace though, God pushed the decision back to “Saturday,” and then eventually to, “Call back 30 minutes from now.” And oh what a 30 minutes those were! So much desire to hope, but so much more scarring that made full hoping feel impossible. (Story concludes in last blog...)

(To understand this blog, you must first read the one before: "Rainbows and Lollipops").

Long story short(er), Barbara was accepted and committed to this year-long recovery program. In what will be our final ride together for quite some time, we trafficked the LA freeways with conversations that allowed Hope to unfold and tears to unleash. She laid on my lap in the backseat, as we wept like babies at this God we were coming to know. Barbara explained her dreams of a land of “rainbows and lollipops—where souls will be good and people will not cry anymore.” We could confidently say we were driving her in that direction. Dropping her off felt like leaving a beloved daughter to college.

She has a long, long road ahead, but seeing the Lord’s precise care and pursuit of this heart named Barbara all week has left our faith skyrocketing. Our sister has been rescued. She has found herself on a path where “rainbows and lollipops” can welcome her Home. That is our prayer today—that this soul would find the courage and desire to surrender a horrific past and horribly challenging present to the hands of her Savior, Jesus Christ.

We remain committed to much of Barbara’s life today, including investments with her at the treatment center, as well relationships with her mom, children and even, abuser, Phillip. The days have been so surreal and caused us to question the definings of ministry, Church and the “normalities” of life on earth. Cracking the lives we’re behind on is overwhelming to say the least, but suffice it to say that even as we head back into “reality,” our lives have been radically touched by a soul in the depths of sin’s well. More so, by such a soul being reached into by the beckon of her Lord and Lover.

May the Land of rainbows and lollipops be the cry of our hearts today. Come, Lord Jesus. Come.

Hey friends,

What a great weekend of COLD meetings, travel and some time at the Jubilee Conference in Pittsburg (shout-out to Tarun, Tyler, Alyson, Darby, Steve...and many other wonderful hearts I'm forgetting).

I met with my Multnomah Team in Colorado Springs and we're excited about some upcoming projects (to be shared more fully in days ahead :)).

Continued moving east, until I hit the snowy streets of Pittsburg. A few flight delays and glitches along the way, including leaving my cell phone in a cab at 2:30am (which my driver returned the next morning!?! sweet man), but phenomenal visit overall. I was able to join Derek Melleby's High-School to College transition crew for a full-day, as well as enjoy a morning with a range of college students from the northeast.

Couldn't resist a quick walk on the beach after landing last night...nice to be home in sunny so. cal :). Back into the swing of classes this morning, but more updates and project news to come!

It's always a joy to hear from you, so let me know what you're up to when you get some minutes between classes and life.

abbie

"Some saints cannot do menial work while maintaining a saintly attitude, because they feel such service is beneath their dignity."
Oswald Chambers: My Utmost for His Highest - 2/5/07